


The road to recovery

by Yellowwolf



Category: New Blood (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Some Descriptions of Violence, TW: Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:00:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7996129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellowwolf/pseuds/Yellowwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Time stretched on endlessly in the dark basement. Rash had no idea what time it was, nor how long he had been there, but it had to have been a day already. The pain had become a constant companion. He was a dead man, he knew that. </i>
</p><p> </p><p>Rash gets abducted on a case. The aftermath proves hard to bear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The road to recovery

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Thanks to Tyhyin for doing some britpicking for my previous story. Tried to keep the corrections in mind. I'm sure there are other things now though.

Time stretched on endlessly in the dark basement.

Rash had no idea what time it was, nor how long he had been there, but it had to have been a day already. He was relatively sure a night had passed, could deduce that from a particularly long stretch of time that he’d been left to his own devices.

The pain had become a constant companion. His arms ached unpleasantly from his wrists being tied behind his back. His right wrist hurt, the snap he’d heard indicating it was broken. To make matters worse, the rope had dug into the skin of both of his wrists and his fingers had been tingling unpleasantly for a while now. His left ankle felt sticky with blood, where the rope had dug into his ankle when he’d thrashed in his chair on multiple occasions. He had a headache, which could be due to hours of anxiety or due to a hit to his temple, the dried blood that ran below down a constant reminder. His left eye was almost swollen shut and his jaw ached. The coppery taste of blood seemed to have lodged itself in his throat. In addition to swallowing hurting like a bitch, it made him want to throw up. Breathing hurt, too, the hits his ribs had taken making themselves known every time he drew a breath.

He was a dead man, he knew that.

They were going to find _her_ , and they were going to come back and shoot him. He shouldn’t have told them her address, he knew that, but the pain had been terrible, unbearable, and despite his best efforts, he’d given in. He didn’t want to die, broken and in pain, he just wanted it to be over. He just wished he hadn’t condemned her in the process too.

The door to the house banged open. He could hear it all the way to the basement. Thundering footsteps made their way down the stairs. Rash glanced up, weary, and maybe a little relieved. The door was flung open and light streamed in, making Rash wince against the sudden influx of light. He’d gotten used to the darkness again.

The man grabbed his hair, yanking his head back sharply. Angry eyes glared down at him. “She wasn’t there, you bloody lied to me!” the man spat.

“I didn’t,” Rash croaked, feeling a mixture of relief, fear and apprehension at the fact that they hadn’t found her, “I swear I didn’t.”

The punch to the gut knocked the air out of him. His muscles tightened and his body jerked, instinctively wanting to hunch in on himself, but the grip on his hair and his arms being tied behind his back kept him from doing just that.

“Then why wasn’t she there?” The man yelled.

“I don’t know,” Rash answered.

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not, I swear. Please -” A punch to the jaw cut him off. The coppery tang got more pronounced and he felt bile rise to his throat. The fact that his head was pulled back made it impossible to swallow it down and he felt himself choke on it. The man released his head in disgust, leaving Rash coughing, the vibrations of his body doing more bad than good but at least he’d stopped choking. He spat out a wad of blood.

“Where is she?” The man asked again, voice a dangerous growl.

Rash shook his head. “I don’t know. I _don’t_.”

The man uttered a series of curses. Rash watched him pace back and forth with a growing sense of apprehension. A quick and painless death didn’t seem to be in the cards anymore, not now that the man was convinced he’d lied. He hadn’t. She must have left, even though she’d been guarded by police and wouldn’t have been able to leave. He wondered what had happened. Maybe his abduction had triggered something. Maybe they’d known he’d give her up.

The man stopped pacing and turned back to him. Rash’s heart skipped a beat. “I think I believe you, which means you’re of no further use to me.” The man pulled a gun out of the waistband of his jeans and pointed it at him.

Rash’s heart actually seemed to stop and his breathing stuttered. Now that he was on death’s door, he realized he really didn’t want to die. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Life didn’t flash before his eyes, at least not the past. It was the future and the things he wouldn’t get to see or experience, all of his hopes and dreams, that came to the forefront. Making the flat more of a home and learning all of Stefan’s annoying quirks and habits, maybe becoming more than friends and roommates. Seeing Leila get the life she’d always dreamt of: becoming a doctor and maybe, just maybe, settling down with someone and having smart, beautiful children of her own. Becoming a DS, maybe even getting promoted beyond that.

He closed his eyes, conjured up images of Stefan, Leila and his mum. He wanted their faces to be the last things he saw, not the barrel of a gun.

The bang echoed loudly in the otherwise quiet room. Rash’s body jerked instinctively, but there was no pain. _Good_ , he thought fleetingly.

Then the sound of raised voices registered. In the next instant Rash realized he hadn’t actually been hit. He opened his eyes. The gun was still pointed at him, but the man was looking up the stairs, a frown creasing his forehead. There was a definite commotion upstairs. The man took a few hesitant steps towards the stairs, just as several feet of pair thundered down the stairs and came into view.

Rash immediately recognized the police uniforms. The relief he felt was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, he felt faint with it, dizzy. If he could have sagged back in the chair in relief, he would have, but there was little room to move.

With two guns pointed at him, his captor seemed to realize his chances of getting out of this in one piece if he fired the gun were slim to none, so he was easy enough to overpower.

Sands was the next one down the stairs. Rash had never been so happy to see anyone in his entire life.

“Oh, Sayyad... Don’t just bloody stand there! Get the paramedics down here and get something to cut those ropes off him!” Sands bellowed at the two uniforms, who had been seemingly waiting, the man in cuffs beside him. They startled and then hurriedly retreated up the stairs. “You’re going to be okay, lad.”

Rash nodded and drew in a shuddering breath. “I told them, Sarge, I’m sorry.”

Sands shook his head. “You held out long enough for us to realize something was wrong. We moved her. It’s a good thing you told them anyway. We only had to wait for them to show up so we could follow them back and get your arse out of here,” he said.

“But still, I-”

“Stop. No one can be expected to withstand torture. We wouldn’t have found ya if you had. You did good.” It sounded, and looked, as if it pained Sands to admit that out loud.

Rash cracked a small smile. Despite Sands’s reassurances that she was okay and that his giving in had actually led to his rescue, the remainders of guilt didn’t disappear. He couldn’t dwell on it for much longer though, because his body decided at that moment that it’d had enough and he passed out, dimly aware of Sands shouting his name before his world was once more plunged into darkness.

\--

Stefan got the call at exactly 3.54 pm.

He knew the exact hour because he’d been alternating between staring at his watch and his phone ever since he’d gotten a call from DS Sands that they thought they might have a location on Rash.

“How is he?” Stefan asked as soon as he answered, not even considering the possibility that the rescue might have been a bust. His hands were clammy with sweat and his heart was racing. He had been jiggling his knee up and down nervously for the past hour and the rhythm only intensified as he waited for an answer. The bustle of the SFO offices seemed to slow down around him. Of course he hadn’t exactly been doing a lot of work today, but being surrounded by people had helped a little more than sitting alone in the flat, waiting.     

 _“Hello, Stefan, you’re welcome for calling you,”_ Sands remarked dryly. _“He’s alive. Looks like shit, took quite a beating and he passed out but he’s in the care of the paramedics now.”_

“Where are they taking him?”

_“Streatham hospital. But don’t bother, you probably won’t be able to see him today anyway.”_

“Yeah, thanks,” Stefan said, absently, the words _he’s alive_ repeating over and over in his head, before he hung up. He immediately dialled Leila’s number. She answered on the first ring.

“He’s alive. They’re taking him to your hospital. I’m about to go there now.”

The relief was evident in her voice when she spoke. _“Oh, thank god. Me too. See you there.”_

Stefan was halfway out the office by the time he realized he should probably alert Marcus to his absence first. He turned back, quickly informed Marcus that they’d found Rash and that he was leaving early. Before Marcus had finished agreeing, Stefan was already out the door, focus entirely on getting to hospital, and Rash, as soon as possible.

Rash had been missing for a good thirty hours.

Stefan hadn’t know anything had been amiss at all until he’d gotten to the flat the evening before, finding it empty. The mere fact that Rash wasn’t home wasn’t unusual in itself. Rash often still visited his mother and Leila. Still, usually Rash warned him in advance so that Stefan could make alternate plans for dinner.

A quick phone call to Leila had revealed that he wasn’t there and that she hadn’t heard from him either. Stefan had played it off as a miscommunication between himself and Rash when Leila had sounded worried, but something in his gut had told him something was wrong. Rash hadn’t been talking much about his recent case, something about a crazy stalker on a murdering rampage, but he’d come home tired and withdrawn the two evenings before that, the weight of it seemingly resting on his shoulders.

He’d debated calling Sands, having gotten his number off Rash some time before. He hadn’t wanted to come off as overly concerned or paranoid at first but with what they’d already gone through, Stefan had ultimately decided caution was a virtue.

A call to Sands had revealed the worrying truth.

 _Arrash’s been taken, we’re trying to find him_ , DS Sands had said, voice even and a little annoyed at having to share such information with the people who obviously damn well needed to know that something was so very wrong.

Stefan had been too stunned for a good minute, before he’d finally managed to get his vocal cords to function enough to demand why neither he, nor Rash’s family had been informed. Stefan practically heard the answering shrug through the phone. _We figured we might be able to find him before it became an issue._

Stefan had shown a remarkable amount of restraint, tone merely clipped and angry, when he’d said that it had become an issue as soon as Rash had been taken. He could have been helping them, damn it. That suggestion had earned him a barked laugh and a _this is a police matter, son._ DS Sands had at least been able to be slightly empathetic when he’d said that they were doing everything in their power to find Rash and that they would have people working through the night.

With shaking hands and feeling more than a little sick to his stomach, he’d left the flat and set course for Rash’s family home. He’d felt like he owed it to them to deliver the news in person. Leila and her mother had, predictably, taken the news about as good as he had, but he’d talked Leila down from going to the police station and kicking Sands’s ass herself.

He’d spent the night sitting on the couch with Leila, the television playing in the background. They’d fallen asleep at some point during the early morning, Leila’s head on his shoulder, Stefan with his head against the back of the couch. When his alarm had gone off, they’d both shot awake, hoping for news, realizing a second too late it had only been Stefan’s mobile phone alarm.

Despite his tiredness and worry, Stefan had decided to go into work, with the predictable result he had gotten a whole lot of nothing done. He’d left Leila, who didn’t have to work until later that evening, and her mum, who’d opted to stay home, at the house, feeling vaguely guilty, but also unable to deal with their worry and fear, which had merely been a mirror of his own anxiety.

Stefan shook himself out of this thoughts when he arrived at the hospital. The nurse at the front desk didn’t have any other information for him other than that Rash had been brought in and that they had wheeled him into surgery. She directed him to the waiting room, but Stefan chose to wait there for Leila and her mum.

They found him there not much later, pacing back and forth. Stefan relayed the fact that they weren’t able to tell them anything about Rash’s condition yet. With nothing else to do, they set up camp in the waiting room.

They remained quiet, not really knowing what to say as they waited for news on Rash’s condition. That they‘d found him, alive, didn’t mean he was out of the woods yet. They didn’t know the extent of his injuries.

Stefan tried not to think about the very real possibility that Rash might still die. In the hours preceding the call, he’d given far too much credence to that notion already. It had been hard to hold onto hope, Stefan was ashamed to admit. He knew the odds. With each passing hour, the chances of finding him alive had reduced drastically.

 _Rash was going to be fine,_ Stefan kept telling himself now.

Stefan couldn’t tell how much time had passed by the time someone came to talk to them.

Rash had made it out of surgery fine and he was in recovery. He’d suffered a broken wrist, which they’d had to set. The injuries to his face had been mostly superficial and would heal without leaving a mark, though a concussion was suspected. He’d suffered cracked ribs, and one broken rib. The beating he’d taken had caused some internal bleeding, but they’d been able to stop that. All in all, the surgeon had said, he’d been lucky.

Unfortunately, they weren’t allowed to see him while he was in recovery and he was suspected to be there for a while longer. Stefan wanted to protest but Leila stopped him with a hand on his arm and a shake of her head. He frowned at her.

“I’m doing my shift. I’ll check in on myself when I can,” Leila explained when the surgeon had left them to it. “But you heard Melinda, he’ll be okay and he won’t wake up before tomorrow morning, at the earliest. There’s nothing more we can do for him anyway.”

Stefan still didn’t like it. He wanted to see Rash, needed to see him to reassure himself that Rash was fine. It was almost like an itch, burning beneath his skin, but he couldn’t do much else than let it go. It was somewhat reassuring, at least, that Leila would be there.

With nothing else to do, he promised to see Leila’s mum home and said goodbye to Leila, making her promise that she’d call if anything, good or bad, happened.

\--

It started with flashes.

His captor’s disembodied face that appeared out of the darkness, set in a snarl, eyes cold and empty, followed by bright light that revealed a broad silhouette only to shift back to a monstrous face, his captor’s, but not really.

Rash jerked awake, blinking up at a white ceiling. He frowned and winced when that hurt. He felt drowsy and almost weightless. He raised himself up a little to get a look at the room, which was bathed in soft colours, light yellows and orange. The sheets were white and felt almost stiff to touch. The undeniable smell of hospital reached his nostrils.

Slowly, the events of the past days trickled back in. He’d been kidnapped. He’d been tortured. And he’d been rescued.

He remembered those events almost fleetingly, his mind failing to grasp a thought long enough to dwell on it. _Painkillers_ , he decided. Or the anaesthetics that were still in his system. He didn’t know. He took stock of his injuries almost mechanically. His right wrist was in a cast. Broken. With his left hand, he poked at his face. Swollen in places. There was something strapped tightly around his ribs. Broken and bruised. He refrained from poking at that bandage too much.

He sank back into the soft cushions. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he drifted back into blissful unconsciousness, comforted in the knowledge that he was safe and lived to see another day.

The next time he awoke, the room was a whole lot brighter and dust particles were dancing in the sunlight. Leila was sitting by his bed, staring out the window, seemingly lost in thought. She looked tired, the circles under her eyes standing out clearly.

“Le’la,” he tried to say, voice hoarse. She turned to him, an expression of relief flashing across her face.

“Rash. How are you feeling?”

While he’d been blissfully aware of the pain before, he wasn’t anymore. His skin seemed to be prickling all over, pain gradually getting worse until it seemed to thrum through his veins. The painkillers must have worn off. Added to that, the events of the past two days were beginning to materialize vividly in his mind’s eye. Being overpowered on his way to the police station, the fear he’d felt when he’d been grabbed from behind, a strong arm around his throat and a hand with a cloth over his face. He’d only been able to struggle for a couple of seconds before everything had gone black.

 “Rash?” Leila asked, worriedly when she didn’t receive an answer.

Rash shook himself out of his thoughts. “Fuck, it hurts.”

“I’ll get someone, they’ll be able to prescribe you something.”

Rash didn’t have to wait long.

 “Hello, Rash, I’m Erica,” the nurse said, kindly. She checked his vitals and asked him about the pain. She nodded at his answers, wrote a couple of things down and then promised to get him some more painkillers. She informed him he was expected to be sore for quite a while, which, yeah, Rash had figured that much.

The painkiller kicking in was a blessing, it dulled both the physical and emotional pain. Leila’s presence helped, too. Rash dodged her questions about what exactly had transpired, because he didn’t feel like putting into words what it had felt like, believing he was about to die, in pain and alone. He felt mildly ashamed, too, that he’d given up hope and lost faith in the very people he worked with to come up with a plan.

Leila did fill him on what had happened on their side, that they’d only found out about what had happened because Stefan had thought to call Sands when he hadn’t returned home. She sounded angry. Rash found that he wasn’t as angry as her. He didn’t always agree with Sands’s approach to cases, but he felt glad that for a little while, at least, they’d been blissfully unaware and had been able to carry on their daily tasks, without the additional worry of his disappearance.

His mum arrived not much later, probably having been called in by Leila. She hugged him, tearfully and kissed his forehead. Completing the party was Stefan, who greeted him with an obviously relieved _Rash, it’s good to see you, mate_.

“The good news is, none of this was your fault this time,” Rash couldn’t help but quip, ignoring the question of _how are you?_

\--

Stefan found that he didn’t like returning to the empty flat. They’d only been living together for a few weeks, but he’d become dangerously used to having Rash around. Living with Rash couldn’t differ more from living with his previous flatmates. Rash was quieter, for one. Neater and more responsible, for another. Less likely to get drunk in the middle of the day, too, unless Stefan tempted him too much.

They’d settled into their life of domesticity as roommates easily and without any major fights so far. They’d argued over chores and groceries, of course. Occasionally, they’d argued about what Rash perceived as Stefan’s messes. Stefan wasn’t messy, exactly, a little nonchalant sometimes, maybe, but Rash’s neat streak was something else. They’d quarrelled about that, too. Basically, it’d been all the normal stuff that needed to be cleared up when it came to getting used to having someone else in your space. Stefan was a fairly easy-going guy though, he’d been used to Jan, after all. Rash, occasionally, wasn’t. Despite being adept at annoying Rash and provoking him, he’d also learned well enough when not to push to keep the peace.

Living with Jan, he’d occasionally dreaded going home, hadn’t particularly liked their flat either. Living with Rash, it was embarrassing to admit that he often looked forward to going home.

 _Home_. He didn’t even have to think twice about calling this flat home. The previous flat had never quite felt like home, it had always felt more like an in-between stop. Stefan couldn’t blame it on location and the crappy flat alone, it was the company, too. He decided not to dwell too long, or hard, on the fact that Rash played an instrumental part in his considering this flat as his home, in the same way that he decided not to consider that he hadn’t flirted, genuinely flirted, with Leila, or anyone else for that matter, since he’d moved in. It would only raise questions that he was not keen on answering. And it didn’t matter now anyway, not when Rash was recovering from something awful.

That led him back to realizing that the reason he was alone right now was because Rash was in hospital. Alive, at least, but decidedly not okay.

\--

Rash’s attempts at dodging the _how are you_ question weren’t always successful. For one, he couldn’t afford to lie to the doctors and nurses about his physical pain, nor did he want to, because he was in pain and the painkillers definitely helped with the pain and in order to sleep, although it seemed to get harder by the day to keep the memories at bay. For another, he hadn’t been able to lie to Sands when he’d come in two days after having been rescued to take his statement. Rash had kept it as short as possible. Sands hadn’t pressed or asked additional questions and had noted down whatever Rash had said. Rash figured his statement was more of a formality anyway. According to Sands, the man had sang like a canary once he realized the game was up. That had been something, at least. Knowing his captor was going to be put away still didn’t afford Rash that much comfort though, not when the memories made him break out in cold sweat and the injuries were a constant reminder.

It was easier to dodge the question with Leila, his mum and Stefan. Varieties of _it hurts but it’s going better every day_ stopped them from asking further. Leila and his mum had mostly accepted that he didn’t want to talk about what had happened yet. Stefan had always been persistently annoying. He’d been a little harder to convince that Rash didn’t want to talk about it and that he was going to be fine. Rash had done his best to ignore the answering sceptical looks. Stefan had been in a few life-threatening situations with him after all, but it was nowhere near the same. Their life-threatening situations had been frightening,  yes, but short and adrenaline-fuelled. They’d always been so busy looking for a way out that the very real possibility of dying had been pushed to the back of their minds long enough to stay focused and driven.

This time, he’d been alone, incapacitated, under constant threat and in constant duress. Dying had seemed like a very real possibility. He couldn’t talk about that, not when he mostly devoted his energy to trying not to think about it.

\--

Rash was released from hospital a week later. Stefan was there to pick him up. Leila and her mum were already back at the apartment, cooking a ‘welcome back’ meal for Rash. The injuries to Rash’s face were already starting to fade, the dark blue and black giving way to a green and light yellow. The swelling around the eye was gone completely. Rash moved gingerly, a reminder that his ribs were still in the process of healing. It was mostly the white cast that stood out like a sore thumb.

“It’s so good to get out of there,” Rash commented as he carefully slid into a taxi. “Hospitals get so boring. And so depressing.”

“It’s going to be good to have you home, the flat’s been quiet without you,” Stefan admitted.

Rash threw him a look and a small smile. “You may come to regret that yet. I won’t be able to do much in terms of housework.”

Stefan snorted. “I am not completely incapable of doing things around the flat. I, occasionally, just choose not to.”

Rash rolled his eyes at him and then turned to stare out the window.

Stefan studied him briefly and then looked away before he could be caught staring. While his injuries had been improving, there was something in Rash’s eyes that Stefan didn’t like. The banter and the joking around flowed as easily as it usually did but there were moments, usually during moments of silence, were Rash’s expression seemed to go completely blank. There was something lurking just underneath the surface that Stefan had been unable to put a name to. His expression shuttered the same way whenever Stefan tried to broach the subject of what had happened. Rash would get nervous and shifty and avoid the question altogether. Stefan could understand that he didn’t want to talk about it, but it was clear that whatever had happened was eating at him. Stefan hoped it would get better once Rash was back home, in familiar surroundings and not confronted with a hospital, which, per definition, meant something was wrong. He hoped Rash would be able to talk to him then before it consumed him whole.

Dinner turned out to be a lively affair, everyone clearly relieved that Rash was home and, mostly, on the mend. Rash clearly enjoyed the evening, too, eagerly participating in conversation and laughing along with jokes.

The blank expression returned as soon as Leila and his mum left. Stefan could tell when Rash entered the living room after having shown his family out. He looked a million miles away, but snapped out of it immediately when he caught Stefan watching him. The easy smile was back in an instant.

“We have leftovers for, what, two days?” Rash asked, nodding at the food on the table.

“At least. There’s another dish in the fridge,” Stefan said.

Rash frowned and went to check it out, then laughed. “Well, that’s one less thing you will have to take care of the coming days.”

“Good news for me. And your mum’s cooking is delicious. Double win,” Stefan commented as he started clearing the table. “Rash, do not touch anything on that table. Go sit down.”

Rash still insisted on stacking plates and gathering cutlery, ignoring Stefan’s disapproving stare but stopped short of actually carrying anything into the kitchen one-handed, which was something at least.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll turn in early. I’m knackered,” Rash said.

“Sure, go ahead. Night. Shout if you need anything.”

“Perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Just saying.”

“Yeah. Good night.”

Stefan finished cleaning up and then seated himself in front of the telly with a beer, aimlessly flipping through the channels and switching it back off when he didn’t find anything that could hold his attention long enough. He dropped his head back against the couch and closed his eyes instead, enjoying the quiet. It didn’t seem as bad now that Rash was back.

It was quiet enough that he didn’t miss the thump coming from Rash’s room. Hoping Rash hadn’t injured himself trying to get something, he got up and hurried over to his room, opening the door quietly. Rash was still asleep, it seemed, and he was muttering in his sleep. Stefan couldn’t make out any words but it sounded clear enough that whatever he was dreaming about wasn’t pleasant. Stefan stood torn in indecision for a couple of seconds, wondering if he should risk waking Rash up or not. When the muttering continued, Stefan figured he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Rash!” Stefan hissed, voice just barely above a whisper. That yielded no result. Stefan got a little closer, carefully shaking Rash’s shoulder, while saying Rash’s name again, a little louder this time. Rash startled awake, shooting up in bed and nearly knocking into Stefan who backed up just in time to avoid a collision. Rash was panting heavily, almost panicked.

“You’re okay, it was just a dream,” Stefan spoke, soothingly.

In the dim light of the room, he could see Rash shake his head. “Not just a dream,” he replied, voice sounding strangled. Rash pulled himself up bed. “Memories. Bloody... memories.” Rash reached for the nightstand and flicked on the light.

Stefan sat down on the side of the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particular, no.”

“You probably should, mate.”

“I said I don’t want to, okay?” Rash snapped.

“I know. And I don’t mean now, or to me, but to someone,” Stefan said, softly.

Rash sighed, scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Do you need anything?” Stefan asked.

Rash laughed quietly. “Sleep, I need some sleep.”

“Yeah, of course. Shout if you need anything, okay?”

“Stop worrying. It’s... I’ll be fine.”

Stefan had heard that one before. It sounded less believable with each passing day.

“I’m your mate, I’m supposed to be worried,” Stefan pointed out. He wished Rash good night and, somewhat reluctantly, left the room. He didn’t close the door this time and Rash didn’t ask.  

Figuring he could do with some sleep as well, he turned off all the lights in the flat and turned in for the night. He didn’t sleep particularly well though, startling awake at the slightest sound and then listening to make sure it hadn’t been Rash but there was no more noise from Rash’s room.

If that was because Rash had slept soundly or because he hadn’t slept at all, Stefan couldn’t say. Fact was Rash was still in bed when Stefan checked on him before heading to work, back turned towards the door, breathing just a fraction too measured and controlled for him to actually still be asleep. Stefan didn’t call him on it and instead left the flat as quietly as he could.

\--

Rash heard the door to the flat close. He rolled on his back and heaved a deep sigh, a little too deep if the way his ribs protested was anything to go by. The night had crawled by. Sleep had threatened to draw him under several times, but as soon as the memories came, he’d managed to pull himself out of them just in time. It wasn’t exactly a long term solution, he knew that, but reliving everything, stuck in that basement with nothing but pain and fear as his companion, wasn’t pleasant either.

When he was awake, he could at least direct his attention elsewhere. Stefan turned out to be a pretty popular subject of thought, which was saying something about how much his social life had devolved every since moving in with Stefan. Probably even before. Still, he couldn’t say he particularly minded coming home to Stefan, even if he felt like either strangling or kissing him half the time.

Rash had mostly come to terms with the warm feeling in his chest whenever he was around Stefan. It had grown over time, but the realization of what exactly it meant had come later, during another one of their evenings on the couch, watching a movie neither felt like watching and were trash-talking. He’d glanced over at Stefan, laughing at one of his jokes. Stefan had smiled back, easily and unguarded, and it had hit Rash like a freight-train: the warm feeling in his chest meant he had feelings for Stefan.

The realization hadn’t made the world stop spinning, nor had it made things awkward. Rash could deal with the feelings, he could. Granted, the whole Leila thing made it a bit more problematic and a bit more painful, but it would pass, he was sure of that. Stefan was too obnoxious to have long-term feelings for. He drove him up the wall. No good could come out of it.

Despite that, the truth was, Stefan was a good friend. And he happened to be right about one thing, he would need to talk about his ordeal to someone if he was going to deal with this. Part of him wanted to confide in Stefan. Stefan wouldn’t judge him, he knew that, but he didn’t want Stefan to feel sorry for him. He could see it in his eyes. Pity. Remorse. Helplessness. All normal feelings, Rash told himself, because Stefan was his friend and felt for him, but still. Rash didn’t like that Stefan felt those things for him, on his account. He didn’t want to be the cause of Stefan’s concern or the reason why Stefan needed to barge into his room in the middle of night to draw him out of his own memories.

Figuring sleep wasn’t going to come anymore, he got up and grabbed himself something to eat.

The apartment felt depressingly empty and quiet. In the hospital, there had been the constant hustle and bustle of people. In here, above the city, it felt almost lonely. Rash hadn’t felt lonely in the flat before, but then, he’d never been on bed rest before either. The relative peace and quiet of the flat often felt good after a long day at work, now it felt almost suffocating. Rash stood staring out the window for a while, lost in thought.

For the sake of having some background noise, he ended up turning on the telly and flipped aimlessly through channels, coming to the not so surprising conclusion that day-time television hadn’t actually improved since his time spent in hospital. He settled on a re-run of Fake Britain on BBC1.

At least the television gave him something to focus on.

It didn’t last long, the tiredness catching up with him once more. He could feel himself dosing off. He curled up on the couch, didn’t fight the tempting pull of sleep now. The living room was nice and bright. The sounds of the television were soothing. There was nothing to remind him of that dark basement.

Until a loud bang jolted him out of his slumber.

Instantly, he was back in the basement, the basement door slamming shut after another round of being a human punching bag, the darkness enveloping him, alone once more, with nothing but his own thoughts and the pain prickling beneath his skin.

He shook his head and snapped himself out of it, but his heart was racing a mile a minute, his chest felt tight and he had trouble breathing. His hands felt clammy and his body was wrecked with shivers. He wanted to claw at his chest, do something to relive that pressure. He got up from the couch, took a few steps and then stopped, not really knowing what to do.

 _Leila_ , he should Leila. He grabbed his mobile phone, hands shaking and dialled her number, praying that she wasn’t working or sleeping.

She answered on the fourth ring. “ _Rash?_ ” she questioned, voice heavy, suggesting she had, in fact, been asleep.

“I can’t – I-I can’t breathe,” he stammered out. He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to focus on his breathing, but the more he tried to get it under control, the more his heart seemed to threaten to burst out of his chest.

“ _Does your chest feel tight? Rapid heartbeat? Sweating?”_

“Y-yes.”

 _“Okay, you’re having a panic attack. It’s scary, but it’s going to be fine,_ ” Leila spoke calmly and soothingly. _“You can try breathing exercises, but it will also pass on its own. Are you sitting down?”_

Rash sat back down on the couch. “I a-am now.”

 _“Good, that’s good. I’m going to stay on the phone with you, okay? You can focus on my voice.”_ So Leila started telling him about work, sharing gossip with him about doctors and nurses he didn’t know, some he’d met once or twice with Leila, talking to him about her patients. Rash found it easy to focus on her voice. He couldn’t tell exactly how long she’d been talking to him, but he could pinpoint the exact moment the weight lifted off his chest and he blew out a long breath. _“Rash?_ ” Leila questioned, interrupting herself mid-story.

“It stopped. It’s just... gone,” he answered. His hands were still a bit clammy, but his heartbeat was returning to normal.

_“It does that. Do you want to talk about it? Do you want me to come over?”_

“No, no, I’m fine. I woke you. You should go back to sleep.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He did feel fine, mostly. He felt drained. He felt apprehensive about closing his eyes again. But he didn’t feel like he was dying anymore, so it felt like a win.

_“If you say so. Look, I’ve got the day off tomorrow. I’ll come by then, okay? We’ll hang. You must be going stir-crazy.”_

Rash laughed quietly, thought briefly about declining her offer, but consoled himself with the fact it was probably not merely out of pity. They’d always gotten along well enough and he was still adjusting to life without her constantly there, just as she was adjusting to life without him. It was only normal that they’d still spent a lot of time together, or so he told himself.

“I am, yeah. Sounds good.”

_“Cool. I’ll bring something to eat. And Rash? You can call me any time today, yeah?”_

“I know. Thanks, Leila. Sleep tight.”

Rash was well and truly bored out of his mind by the time Stefan returned home from work. He’d never been one for sitting around idly. He’d gone out for a walk for a little while to clear his head, which had helped a little, but the walk itself hadn’t lasted all that long, his ribs protesting enough that Rash didn’t feel like pushing his luck. He’d managed to stop himself falling during the day asleep, at least. Which was fortunate, because by the evening, he happened to be tired enough to let himself fall asleep at three a.m., sleeping soundly enough that he didn’t wake up until he heard Stefan get up and leave for work.

Maybe he’d be able to keep the memories at bay from now on.

\--

That night, Stefan was actually sleeping soundly when it was a scream that woke him.

Stefan bolted upright in his bed and was already kicking his feet free from the sheets before he had truly registered he was doing so. There was a crash from Rash’s room, followed by a muttered curse. Stefan flipped on the light in his room, wincing when he was briefly blinded, and hurried out into the hallway. Light was coming from Rash’s room and he almost collided with him in the hallway, stopping short just in time to avoid barrelling into him.

Rash looked frantic and panicked, eyes widened in terror, and breath coming in short bursts.

“Whoa, hey, where are you going?” Stefan asked. He grabbed Rash by the shoulders, tried to get him to focus on him but it wasn’t really working, Rash’s eyes flitting about, settling nowhere.

“I don’t know! Away. Away from... I don’t know. It’s so dark.”

Rash’s body was practically vibrating with nervous tension. His eyes were darting from Stefan to the hallway and back, as if he really was planning an escape. His breathing seemed to have gotten worse.

 _Panic attack_ , Stefan realized.

“Okay. Okay, come on, let’s go into the living room,” Stefan spoke soothingly. He guided Rash into the living room, flipping on lights as he went until most of the flat was bathed in light. Rash sank down on the couch and clasped his hands together in his lap. Even then, Stefan could still see that his hands were shaking badly.

“I think you’re having a panic attack.”

Rash gave him a _no kidding_ look, which Stefan let slide on the account that Rash looked genuinely freaked out.

“Do you want me to call Leila?” Stefan asked, unsure what he was supposed to do as he stood hovering anxiously beside the couch.

“Are y-you mental? It’s t-three a.m.,” Rash replied between shuddering breaths. “I-it’ll pass.”

“Have you ever had one of these before?”

Rash shook his head and lowered his gaze again to focus on some point on the carpet.

“Right. I’ll... I’ll put the kettle on, make some tea,” Stefan said, for lack of a better approach. Warm drinks worked soothingly, right? As he waited for the water to boil, he made a quick trip to his bedroom in order to get his mobile phone and ran a quick Google search on panic attacks. Google proved not particularly helpful, citing variations of w _ait for it to pass_ , _don’t fight it_ and _try to belly breath._

When the water had finished boiling, he divided it over two cups, making sure not to fill Rash’s up to the brim to avoid sloshing. He dunked two tea bags in the water, added some sugar and a spoon and returned to Rash, setting the two cups on the table.

“Right, the good news is that it’ll pass. The bad news is that it could take up to half an hour,” Stefan stated, sitting down next to Rash. “Google suggests either waiting it out and letting your body regain control or trying breathing exercises.”

Rash started taking slow, measured breaths. If the way his breathing still stuttered with every breath, even after a couple of minutes, it wasn’t working. Rash blew out a breath in frustration and then seemed to go for the other approach, waiting it out.

“Y-you don’t have t-to stay u-up,” Rash said. He reached for his tea, carefully taking it in both hands and taking a sip. “Thanks, b-by the way.”

“You’re welcome. And I am staying up. Do you need anything? Telly? Some music? Funny stories? Me keeping my mouth shut?”

Rash gave him a small, grateful smile. Stefan hated the fact that Rash felt like he couldn’t just come right out and say he needed him to stay.

“T-tell me something,” Rash settled for.

Stefan nodded, picked up his tea and took a sip, before launching into stories of his childhood. Summers spent in Poland, with family who lived in the country, surrounded by beautiful nature, how he’d loved exploring and wandering in the forest, imaging all kinds of adventures. Or summers spent with family who lived in the city, surrounded by people and neighbourhood kids, where they’d get up to mischief.    

Stefan had been talking for a good forty minutes when he stopped. Rash’s breathing had evened out some time ago, that haunted look disappearing little by little as his stories coaxed a smile out of him or a barked out laugh at his more ridiculous antics. Ten minutes ago, his eyes had even started drooping. Somehow, Rash had slid sideways enough that his head was resting on Stefan’s shoulder. He was snoring softly, actually asleep.

He figured Rash couldn’t really be all that comfortable, but he felt loath to wake him up now that he’d calmed down enough to sleep. So instead of moving, he shifted the tiniest bit so he could let his head drop back against the couch too and closed his eyes. Despite all the lights still being on and the fact that he was definitely going to get a crick in his neck, he managed to drift off.

\--

Rash woke up first, being awoken by a stiffness and soreness in his jaw. After blinking his eyes open, he needed a couple of seconds to figure out why he was facing the television and, quite obviously, leaning on Stefan.

It came back to him. He’d been having another nightmare, one so severe that he’d managed to wake up with a panic attack that had definitely been worse than his first one. He remembered feeling like he was suffocating, a weight sitting heavily on his chest. He remembered feeling jittery and out of sorts, heart beating a mile a minute and seemingly threatening to burst out his chest, hands, and probably entire body, bathing in sweat. He’d felt trapped.

It got a bit hazy after that, all he remembered was thinking that _he needed to get away_. From the darkness, from that nightmare, from his own feelings. He’d almost fallen in his haste to get out of bed and turn on the light. He’d ran into Stefan, almost literally.

He’d let Stefan lead him into the living room. His voice seemed to have come from miles away, but it had been soothing nonetheless, something to hold onto, something to ground him in reality and to get him out of his own head, away from the darkness that seemed to have settled in the very depths of his soul and that seemed to want to swallow him whole.

Focussing on Stefan’s stories had definitely helped, just like it had helped listening to Leila. His breathing had returned to normal and he’d started feeling more present, which was right before he’d apparently fallen asleep on Stefan’s shoulder. Stefan, who had in turn, fallen asleep on the couch, head back, mouth open a little. Rash winced in sympathy. He was not going to enjoy waking up.

As Rash moved away completely, Stefan started waking up. He groaned when he straightened up, hand going to the back of his neck. “Wh’t time‘s it?”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” Rash answered. He glanced out their high windows. The sky was starting to take on a light blue hue, with some pinks, oranges and yellows in the distance.

Stefan stretched his arm above his head and yawned widely.

“How are you feeling?” Stefan asked, with a hint of a worry in his voice and a whole lot more worry in his eyes.

Rash found that hard to look at so he looked away, frowning a little and feeling more than a little embarrassed. “Better. Still tired. But um, I slept pretty well. I don’t remember any dreams, so that’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry about... waking you up again,” Rash forced out. _And for having to pull me out of the depths of my own mind, again,_ he thought but didn’t add, because it was painful enough to admit to himself that he was not okay and that Stefan was seeing him at his lowest.

“Hey, come on, don’t do that. Rash, look at me. You’re entitled to feel what you’re feeling, you went through something traumatic and I want to be here to help you however and _whenever_ I can. You don’t have to go through this alone. I get that you might not want to talk about it with me but you can count on me to be here, yeah?”

Stefan sounded, and looked, so genuine and earnest that Rash felt the slightest bit choked up that he had someone in his life who cared so deeply, not counting his family, who were morally obligated to care.

“Hope you still feel that way at work today,” Rash joked, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smile.

Stefan made a disgusted face. “Speaking of which, I should shower and see if a cold shower does the job of waking me up.”

“I’ll put on the coffee and make you some breakfast. A real, unhealthy breakfast,” Rash promised at Stefan’s distrustful look.

“Are you sure you should be doing that with your wrist?”

Rash shrugged. “I can try.”

“Don’t overdo it,” Stefan warned, before he left him to it.

Rash had been pleased to note that Stefan did not, in fact, eat that rubbish he’d eaten on their first outing every morning, mostly because he couldn’t be arsed to prepare the full monty every morning, but that was not to stay that he ate particularly healthy. Eggs and toast were a regular thing, sometimes just slices of bread with marmalade if he was really pressed for time. Rash preferred something a little more healthier, often settling for some fruit and yoghurt, or, sometimes, a slice of toast.

This morning he decided to go for pancakes. For one, because it was easy to make, even with one hand in a cast, and for another, because he still hated the smell of bacon and sausage so early in the morning and he’d been subjected to it enough thanks to Stefan. As an afterthought, he stirred some blueberries through the dough, because fruit was fruit.

Stefan looked decidedly more awake by the time he returned from his shower, hair still wet and sticking to his head. The wet puppy look never did fail to amuse Rash, or to stir up those warm feelings inside him, and he hid a grin by turning back to the stove so he could turn the batter into actual pancakes.

“Is this a sneaky attempt at getting me to eat fruit?” Stefan asked, eying the blueberries in the pancakes with apprehension, when Rash set a plate in front of him.

“It’s actually delicious, try it before you knock it,” Rash replied, busying himself with fetching a cup of coffee as well.

“I thought we were going for unhealthy.”

“Just because there are some blueberries in there, doesn’t mean it’s a healthy breakfast, you wanker. Especially not if you’re going to put that amount of syrup on it, that’s disgusting.” Rash wrinkled his nose to further make his point. Stefan grinned and made a big show of shoving a rather large piece of pancake in his mouth, with the predictable result that syrup ended all over his face. Rash rolled his eyes and threw a tea towel at his head. “Pig.”

“You’re right though, these are delicious.”

“Because you can only taste the – Never mind.”

It never did cease to amaze Rash how much rubbish Stefan actually could put away in the morning. When Stefan had finished eating, Rash sat down at table with him, eating a respectable two pancakes himself, while Stefan sat sipping his coffee.

A little while later, Stefan left for work and Rash was left to his own devices again. He took his time cleaning the kitchen, but even working slowly, it didn’t take him all that long to clean up what little mess he had made. He flopped down on the couch and sighed.

Truth was, he was going stir crazy. He couldn’t go back to work, wasn’t allowed to yet. He couldn’t exercise because his ribs were still healing. He couldn’t go for long walks, because, again, his ribs were still healing and liked to remind him that they had been cracked and/or broken. Day time television was shit and binge-watching was not an option, because no series ever persuaded him to focus on it for several episodes at a time. Reading didn’t manage to capture his attention for very long, because he kept thinking that he should be at work, doing something useful with his time. Maybe he could just do some desk work. There couldn’t be anything wrong with sitting behind a desk, could there?

He got out his mobile phone and dialled Sands’s number. “Sands,” came Sands’s gruff voice. Rash was almost happy to hear him.

“Sarge-” He started, only to be cut off immediately.

“ _Not a chance in hell_.” Was what he heard before Sands _hung up on him_. Rash stared into space for a couple of seconds, baffled, mobile still pressed to his ear, before he huffed and redialled the number.

 _“Bed rest, Sayyad. Doctor’s orders. And before you say anything else, no, you do not know better than your doctors. Unless you show me a paper that says you’re cleared for work, you’re not coming back_ ,” Sands said. _“Don’t call me again or I will block your bloody number.”_

Rash decided not to press his luck and threw the phone down on the couch, groaning in frustration. He picked it up again and called Stefan.

Stefan answered on the first ring, which was somewhat suspicious, especially considering Stefan sounded particularly worried when he said his name. Rash felt like rolling his eyes, but refrained because it wouldn’t be entirely justified. There was some evidence to suggest that he was going off the deep end after all. That made him smile a little, although it was far from funny.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked, deciding to ignore the hint of worry for the time-being.

_“Um. Help me with what exactly?”_

“I don’t know! One of your cases. Something to Google. People to call. _Anything_ ,” Rash stressed.

Stefan laughed quietly. _“Okay, first of all, you know I can’t talk about my job.”_ Rash huffed, because, yeah, right, he was perfectly capable of talking about it, if he so pleased and if Rash pestered him long enough. _“And second of all, you’re meant to be resting, mate.”_

“I am bored to tears. Almost literal tears, Stefan.”

_“Can’t help ya. Doctor’s orders. Also, your sister’s orders. I have been threatened, Rash. Threatened with bodily harm if I enable you.”_

“Ugh. You’re all the worst.”

_“It’s only because we love you. Seriously, watch some telly, read a book. I’ll be home to entertain you before you know it.”_

“If all my brain cells have died by the time I get to return to work and I can’t function anymore, thereby feeling the brunt of Sands’s and Heywood’s wrath, I’m holding you, and only you, fully responsible,” Rash threatened.

 _“Fair enough,”_ Stefan replied, cheerily. _“Bye now, Rash.”_

“Twat,” Rash managed to get in, before Stefan hung up with a laugh.

When Stefan returned home from work that evening, aside from dinner, he’d brought a stack of crossword puzzles and Sudoku’s, which he gave to him with a shit-eating grin and a _training for your brain cells, mate_.

Rash took great pleasure in tossing them at his head one-by-one and thereby chasing him out of the living room for a full five minutes. The books hadn’t exactly serviced his brain cells, but they’d had a therapeutic effect nonetheless.

\--

Leila texted Stefan the next morning, demanding to meet for lunch. Stefan agreed. Because she had the day off, she came to his office and they went to a pub a five-minute walk away.

They chatted about everything and nothing for a couple of minutes before switching to the topic Leila had no doubt called this impromptu lunch meeting for: Rash.

“How is he?”

Stefan sighed and glanced down at the table, smoothing out a paper napkin with his hand. “I don’t know. He’s relatively fine during the day, I think, joking around with me. But the nights have not been great. I’ve had to wake him up from a nightmare several times and the night before last, he had a panic attack.”

“Another one?”

“What do you mean, another one?”

“He had one the day after he came home from hospital. Called me up in a right state.”

Stefan frowned. “He told me he hadn’t had one before. Well, didn’t so much tell me, as shook his head when I asked him. To be honest, I don’t think he’s been sleeping much, keeping himself wake.”

“He needs to talk to someone. He can’t go on like this, not if he’s not going to talk to either of us, and he probably won’t.”

Stefan nodded. “I know, I’ve told him. I think he knows, too, but I think he’s scared.”

“Yeah... I hate seeing him like this,” Leila admitted, shaking her head, sadly. She looked like she was going to say more, but seemed to reconsider it at the last second, swallowing it back down and glancing down at her plate. Stefan reached across the table to take her hand, drawing her eyes back to his.

“He might not be ready to talk to either of us, but you can talk to me,” Stefan spoke softly.

“I don’t – I don’t actually want to hear what they did to him, but we know his injuries and I’ve – I’ve been thinking about it, you know? Thinking about what could have caused those injuries. Imagining it.” Leila swallowed, glanced down at the table. “It makes me so angry. And so sad.”

Stefan squeezed her hand. “I know how you feel. I just wish they could put me in a room with that guy.”

Leila gave him a slight smile. “God, me too.”

They finished lunch, making more idle small talk before saying their goodbyes. Stefan watched Leila go. It seemed like the worry was weighing her down, shoulders slouched. He resolved to have another talk with Rash about seeing someone. Or at least making sure he slept tonight, even if he had to sit next to him in bed.

He came home that night to Rash puttering about in the kitchen, preparing something or other. Rash seemed to have turned to cooking to alleviate his boredom. Stefan couldn’t really complain, they’d never been big cooks and he did like a proper meal now and again. 

“Honey, I’m home,” Stefan joked, which earned him a small smile and a muttered ‘hey’.

Despite the fact that Rash was busy, it was hard to miss the obvious truth that he looked honestly tired. The bags under his eyes looked bigger than they’d had that morning and his entire posture radiated tiredness.

“Smells delicious. What are you making?”

“Chicken Tikka Massala.”

“You know, I could get used to this,” Stefan remarked.

Rash snorted. “Don’t. As soon as I can go back to work, this stops.”

“Pity.”

“Maybe you should consider getting yourself a girlfriend then. Or, a maid,” Rash suggested, with a grin. Stefan noted that it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Why would I do that? I’ve already got you caring about my general well-being, badgering me about eating more healthy and doing my laundry,” Stefan joked. _And I don’t want a girlfriend anyway_ , Stefan thought, and then stopped himself right there, because now was most definitely not the time.

Rash waved at him with a spatula. “That also stops as soon as I get back to work.”

“You’d make a good housewife, houseman, whatever. Think about it. I’ll bring home the dough, you can cook, and clean, and do the laundry.”

“The dough,” Rash repeated, flatly, as if he couldn’t believe that had just come out of his month. Stefan felt amused that he’d chosen that one to get his knickers in a twist over.

“Really? That’s what you choose to focus on?”

Rash stopped to think for a second. “Shut up,” he said, cheeks going a little red. “Stop distracting me before I burn the food.”

Stefan held up his hands in surrender. “Alright.” He drifted back into the living room, flopping down on the couch while Rash finished dinner. It tasted delicious enough, if maybe a little salty, but Stefan hadn’t been lying when he’d said he could get used to food like this. Before, they mostly threw something together, preferably something that could be ready in fifteen minutes, often cooking time included, or grab take-out, which got boring real quick.

After dinner, they retreated to the couch to watch some television.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stefan caught Rash drifting off several times, before he seemed to snap himself out of it. After what was probably the tenth time, Stefan turned off the telly.

“You need to sleep tonight,” Stefan said, seriously.

Rash frowned at him. “I have been sleeping.”

“Really? You slept last night? Don’t lie to me.”

Rash sighed, looked away. “Look, it’s not that easy, okay? I don’t want to wake up with a panic attack again and I don’t want to wake you up, either.”

“I told you, I don’t care that you wake me up. And I get that the memories frighten you, but you’re going to crash, if you keep this up. If it’s really that bad, you should see a therapist, talk about it, get sleeping pills prescribed, I don’t know, but see someone.”

“ _If_ it’s really that bad? If? Seriously, Stefan, you think I enjoy the fact that the memories follow me around?”

Stefan could recognize and acknowledge that he had chosen his words unwisely, but this was the first time in a while that he’d gotten a proper reaction out of Rash in relation to what had happened to him and anger was better than nothing. Still, he didn’t exactly want to fight with him, that was not the point.

“Of course not. I’m sorry, that was badly worded. But you haven’t exactly been trying to do something about it either. You don’t want to talk to me, or Leila. We’re worried. Leila agrees that you should see someone.”

“Leila agrees? Oh, you’ve talked to Leila, have you?” Rash asked, angrily. “Talking about what a mess I am after having been bloody kidnapped and tortured? That’s just great! Thanks for that. I thought I could trust you.” Before Stefan could respond, or point out that Rash was being slightly unreasonable, Rash stormed to his room, slamming the door shut.

 _That went well_ , Stefan thought, head thumping back against the couch in frustration. But there was some progress. Rash had admitted out loud for the first time what had happened to him. He just hoped that it would spurn him on to do something about it.

Stefan decided to call it a night not long later. He briefly paused outside Rash’s door. This was the first time since that first night that the door had been closed and it bothered Stefan. His plan had been to ensure that Rash slept. He had even less of a way of knowing now.

The door was still closed the next morning.

This time, Stefan had barely slept himself, trying to listen for any signs that Rash needed him. It had been a futile exercise, of course. If Rash was still determined to not sleep, there was no point for Stefan to stay awake. He made himself breakfast, quickly roasting some bread and downed it with a couple of cups of coffee. Today was not going to be a great day at work, but thankfully, it was Friday. He paused outside of Rash’s door again, but figured he should let him be. If he’d wanted to talk, he would have come out.

\--

Rash could admit to himself he was being petty and stubborn, as he listened to Stefan putter about before leaving for work. His eyes stung with exhaustion, after having spent most of the night decidedly not sleeping and staring up at the ceiling. He was tired, exhausted.

Stefan was right, of course. But that didn’t make him like this any less. He could hardly bear thinking about what had happened. How was he meant to put it into words, explain it to a stranger? Explain the fear, the anger, the denial, the acceptance of death, the guilt at having given up the safe house location, the pain, the panic, the anxiety? There were no words to adequately describe the mess of emotions he’d felt and continued to feel.

He decided to put it to the test, decided to focus on those feelings, attempted to untangle them. He didn’t fight off the memories like he usually would, welcomed them, focused on them and zoned in.

The panic attack didn’t even catch him by surprise. Rash just underwent it, there really wasn’t anything else to do and he wasn’t about to call either Stefan or Leila.

When it was over, and he lay staring at his ceiling even more exhausted than before, he grabbed his mobile phone and texted Leila. _Can you recommend anyone?_ Considering Stefan and Leila had talked about him, he probably didn’t need to clarify it further. The name and number came through not much later. Rash gathered his courage and called to schedule an appointment. Best to get it over with.

Rash didn’t magically feel better or relieved after having made the appointment, nor did he particularly look forward to it, but it still felt like he had made some kind of progress and that in itself lifted his mood considerably.

With nothing else to do, Rash took inventory of the kitchen and made a grocery list, figuring he could go to the shops to get everything and start dinner. He almost looked forward to the task, it gave him something productive to do, at least.

By the time six pm rolled around, Rash had finished most of the preparations for dinner and was mostly just waiting for Stefan to get home. He felt slightly apprehensive and a little nervous about seeing him, because he had no idea how Stefan was going to react to seeing him. He hadn’t heard from him all day, which was, in itself, not unusual but it didn’t give him anything to go on. He wasn’t in the mood for a fight, even though he’d started it.

It was a good thirty minutes later by the time Rash heard the key turn in the lock.

“Hey,” Stefan greeted him, cautiously, looking every bit as apprehensive as Rash felt, but thankfully not angry.

Rash figured he’d best just get the apology over with. “I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that. You, and Leila, were – are right. So I made an appointment with a therapist Leila recommended. I have an appointment next Thursday.”

Stefan visibly relaxed. “That’s good.”

“Yeah. So are we good?”

“Yeah, of course, mate. Water under the bridge. Um, did you sleep at all last night?” Stefan looked like he regretted asking the question almost instantly.

Rash swallowed down a retort, recognized Stefan was just worried, and had a right to be.

“I wish. Every time I close my eyes, I – I tried, you know, this morning, to just let the memories come, but that ended in a panic attack. Prompted me to call the therapist though. But hell, I’m so tired,” Rash admitted. Of course, it didn’t take his admission to make that abundantly clear, he’d been faced with his own reflection in the mirror. It was probably the most he’d admitted to Stefan out loud so far.

Having said it out loud seemed to have made it all the more real and suddenly, tears were prickling at the corners of his eyes, a result of his tiredness and his frustration and annoyance more than anything. He looked away from Stefan and down at the kitchen counter. He couldn’t stop a tear from slipping down his cheek.

He was seriously not going to cry because he couldn’t sleep.

“I just want to get some bloody sleep without seeing his face or feeling like I’m back in that room,” Rash said. And then there were more tears. Apparently, he really was going to have a breakdown right now. Seriously, he’d made an appointment. This couldn’t have waited another week? He wiped at his cheeks angrily.

He hadn’t heard Stefan move, but he was suddenly there, in his space, pulling him into a hug. Rash didn’t resist, didn’t feel like resisting, didn’t even bother stopping the tears.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Stefan whispered, over and over again, like a mantra, until Rash felt the tears subside and he was sniffling more than anything. He became aware of how tightly his hands were clenched in the back of Stefan’s shirt.

With some embarrassment, he let go and stepped back, avoiding Stefan’s eye under the guise of grabbing a napkin in order to blow his nose and wipe away the tear tracks.

“So that happened,” Rash commented weakly, looking at Stefan out of the corner of his eyes.

“Yeah. Did it help?”

“Well, I’m even more tired now so I might just sleep soundly tonight.”

“I know I’ve asked this before, but is there anything I can do?”

Rash shook his head. “No. Well. You’re doing it already. You’re here.” He blew out a breath and turned to face Stefan fully. He probably made quite a sight, tired _and_ eyes puffy. He attempted a smile. “Best get on with dinner.”

“Do you want me to finish it?”

“No, no, go sit down. It won’t be long,” Rash promised, waving Stefan off. Stefan nodded, albeit reluctantly and retreated into the living room. Cooking at least gave Rash the opportunity to compose himself and gave him something to distract himself from both the residual emotions and some measure of shame that he’d just broken down in front of Stefan.

After dinner, they retreated to the couch with a beer and settled in for a night of bad television. Rash wasn’t exactly paying attention to the film they were watching. He kept coming back to Stefan’s words. _Is there anything I can do?_ His best night’s sleep, he realized, had been when Stefan had talked to him after the panic attack. Granted, he hadn’t slept very long, or very comfortably, but he’d been able to let himself fall asleep, with Stefan there next to him. His mind had been blissfully free of memories, instead filled with images of a young Stefan and beautiful, open fields. He could ask Stefan to do that again, talk him to sleep. He was tired, it probably wouldn’t take very long.

“I would actually like to ask you to try something,” Rash spoke up, halfway through the film, giving up on any pretence that he was paying attention.

“Okay?”

“And you don’t have to, if you don’t want to –”

“Rash, I said I’d do anything. What is it?”

“Remember when we fell asleep on the couch? You talked to me. That helped me fall asleep and your presence helped me sleep, I think. I’d like to see if that works.”

“Okay,” Stefan agreed, easily. “Just tell me when you want to go to bed.”

They finished the film and got ready for bed. It was a little weird having Stefan follow him into his room. Stefan seemed to feel no such awkwardness. He waited for Rash to get into bed, then turned off the light and slipped in on the other side.

“Do you want me to stay after you’ve fallen asleep?”

Rash was taken aback by the question. He actually hadn’t thought that far ahead, or at least, hadn’t anticipated Stefan outright asking him.

“Maybe?”

“I’ll stay,” Stefan decided, “You better not kick in your sleep though.”

“Can’t promise that. You’d have to ask my exes if I do, but I’ve had no such complaints.”

“Right. Well, I’ll just kick back if you do.”

Rash huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, alright. I will too if you kick.”

“Fair enough. What do you want me to talk about?”

“I don’t know. Anything. I’m sure you’ve got a few more stories about your childhood, or whatever.”

“You have no idea. Okay, here goes...”

Rash closed his eyes. He focused on Stefan’s voice, conjured up the images that went with the stories, let them fill his mind, leaving no room for anything. Before he knew it, sleep was pulling him under and he let it, safe in the knowledge that he was going somewhere happy.

\--

Stefan was actually sleeping deeply, but Rash’s murmuring still broke through. He blinked open his eyes blearily. They were both on their sides, facing each other. Through the dim light in the room, Stefan could see the frown on Rash’s face.

He reached out, lightly shaking Rash’s shoulder. “Rash, it’s just a nightmare. You’re okay,” he spoke, quietly. Rash’s frown deepened for a second and then smoothed out, the murmuring stopped. When Stefan was sure that he’d settled down again, he let himself drift off again too.

The next time Stefan woke up, it was already mid-morning and stripes of light were coming in through cracks in the curtains. Rash was still sleeping soundly, lips parted slightly and snoring softly. Even laying down, Stefan could tell Rash was going to have a spectacular case of bed head, it was already sticking up and curls had fallen over his forehead. Stefan smirked. The bed head was probably one of his favourite things about seeing Rash in the morning, it differed so from his usually slicked back hairstyle.

As quietly and as carefully as he could, he slipped out of bed and out of the room.

It had been a good idea to sleep in the same bed, Stefan thought. He’d been able to sleep through the night as well, not having to be on guard so much now that he was close enough to hear everything and be able to react instantly.

He prepared himself a, for his standards, fairly light breakfast and sat down on the couch with a cup of coffee, watching some telly.

Rash surfaced around eleven a.m., bleary-eyed, squinting against the light, and as Stefan had suspected, with a seriously amazing case of bed head.

“Good morning, although it can barely be considered morning by now.”

“Yeah, didn’t think it would be this late already,” Rash said, with a small, pleased smile.

“Slept well then?”

“Yeah, seemed to have worked. Thanks. Did you sleep okay?”

“I think my bed’s comfier but could have been worse,” Stefan replied with a shrug and a grin.

Rash rolled his eyes and headed for the kitchen. “Oh, Leila and my mum are dropping by this afternoon. I hope that’s okay?”

“Yes, of course it is. I’ll can make myself scarce for a few hours if you’d like.”

“No, you don’t have to do that. Leila and my mum actually like you, can’t figure out why, so you might as well stay.”

Stefan laughed. “Cheers,” he said, tipping his now empty coffee mug to Rash in a salute. “So very gracious of you.”

“I know.”

\--

It became a habit then. Stefan would literally talk Rash to sleep and then spend the night in his bed, which sounded a whole lot dirtier than it actually was. It mostly seemed to work out best for both of them. Rash would still, on occasion, be plagued with nightmares that had him tossing and turning or actually waking up, but Stefan was close enough to talk him through it. They both got more sleep than the week before and that was something at least.

Thursday dawned quickly enough. Stefan was rather anxious to return home. Rash had had his first appointment with the therapist that afternoon. Stefan had texted him earlier to ask him how it’d been, but he hadn’t received an answer, which could mean any number of things, but it still worried Stefan.

He left at five pm sharp, something that didn’t happen all that often, which is why he figured he might as well and set course for the flat.

He found Rash sitting on the couch. The telly was on, but Stefan could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn’t actually paying any attention. He looked more thoughtful than anything, a little more tired, maybe.

“How did it go?” Stefan asked.

Rash startled out of his thoughts. “Shit! I hadn’t heard you come in. All right, I think. The therapist says talking about it is a good first step on the road to recovery. Turns out denial isn’t a good coping strategy. Not that we haven’t experienced that already. Can’t say it was pleasant to talk about it though.”

“As long as it helps.”

“Yeah. You’re home early. I haven’t even started dinner yet,” Rash said and then he made a face at himself. “I seriously need to get back to work.”

Stefan laughed. “How about we order in? You deserve a break from all that cooking you’ve been doing,” he said, smirking.

“Don’t smirk at me. You love my cooking.”

“I actually do,” Stefan admitted. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Just order whatever you like.”

Stefan smirked again. “Are you sure you want to put that much trust in me? I know all your weaknesses.”

“And you won’t exploit them, because if you do, I’m hanging up my chef’s hat.”

“Cruel and unusual punishment,” Stefan decided.

Rash shrugged, smiling innocently. “Your choice.”

Stefan decided not take the risk and went for something they both liked. They had a quiet evening in, which was not much of a change from their usual nights in, lately.

“Do you still want me to...?” Stefan asked, trailing off uncertainly.

“Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

“No, of course not,” Stefan said and realized he meant it. He’d become rather used to their night time ritual and having someone else sleep beside him, even if that someone woke him up about once a night. He was running out of stories to tell though. They had managed to cover quite a lot in a week and there were only so many things he could tell without it getting repetitive. If they kept this up, Stefan would have to consider actually reading out of a book, or something. It was saying something that he had actually thought that far ahead. This wasn’t an arrangement that was meant to last, after all. Rash would get better with therapy and he wouldn’t need him anymore then. Stefan pretended that didn’t bother him.

As per usual, Rash curled up on his side of the bed, facing him. Stefan had pretended not to notice that they had evolved from sleeping almost at the edge of the bed to steadily getting closer. He’d woken up once already to find himself close enough that he could feel Rash’s breath on his face.

Rash fell asleep reasonably quickly that night, allowing Stefan to follow him close after.

It was a kick to the shin and a flurry of movement that awoke Stefan. Rash was already halfway out of the bed by the time Stefan managed to blink his eyes open and get his brain to function enough to realize that something was seriously amiss. When he did, he reached for Rash but he was shrugged off in favour of Rash getting to the light switch and bathing the room in bright light, which made Stefan wince briefly. Rash remained standing there, back to him and obviously trembling.

“Rash?” Stefan asked. He pulled himself upright in bed further, leaning against the headboard. He suppressed a yawn and tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Rash turned back to him, looking visibly frazzled. He was breathing heavily, but he wasn’t having a panic attack.

“Come on, come sit down,” Stefan said soothingly.

“Shit,” Rash muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face, but doing as Stefan suggested, albeit somewhat reluctantly. “I guess it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

“I don’t think there’s a magic fix.” Stefan scooted closer, didn’t stop to think about what he was doing, but felt like he had to, and wrapped an arm around Rash’s shoulder, tugging him closer. Rash came willingly enough, sinking down a little to rest his head against Stefan’s shoulder.

“I wish there was.” Rash sighed. “The therapist said it might also help if I talked to you about it, if I could be honest and help you understand what I’m going through.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. But maybe I should.” Rash paused then, presumably to get his thoughts in order. Stefan absently rubbed his arm, bracing himself for what was to come, because as much as he had wondered, he didn’t think he actually wanted any visuals stuck in his head, which was selfish to say the least, so he didn’t voice that thought out loud.

“I was ready to die,” Rash started. “It had only been something like twenty-four hours and I was wishing he would just get it over with. It’s interesting because at first, I was willing to endure the pain, I wasn’t going to give in, I was going to hold out hope that someone would find me, even though, having worked the case, there had not been a single lead to this guy in the three days I’d been pursuing the case. But then... I – The beatings were probably not the worst, the worst was being left alone in the dark, in pain, and having no idea how much time had passed. I just... I didn’t want that. I had tried getting loose, to no avail. I had tried screaming, which, obviously, never helps. I stopped caring, I guess.” Rash paused and heaved a shuddering sign, audibly steeling himself to continue.

“Rash, you don’t have to...,” Stefan tried, trailing off when he realized he sounded decidedly choked and shaken himself. Rash either didn’t hear him, caught up in his own thoughts, or ignored him, because he continued.

“I gave him Emma Matthews’s name without a second thought, eventually. The guilt didn’t even come until a while later, until I realized they were going to find her and kill her and that it was so unnecessary that two people would have to die. And then he was back, and he pointed a gun at me, and suddenly, I wasn’t ready to die. I wanted to live. I wanted to see you again, and Leila, and my mum. But still, there wasn’t anything I could do. I didn’t even – I just closed my eyes, and thought about you, Leila and my mum. It was... I can’t describe that moment, it was similar to that moment on the boat, I guess, except somehow worse? I thought I was going to die then, too, but I had hope then, hadn’t had as much time to contemplate death as I did in that shithole of a basement. It’s mostly that moment that I keep reliving, the gun pointed at me, closing my eyes, the bang, not of the gun but of the door when the police barged in, except in my dreams, it’s always the gun that goes off.” The last part was said on a sob and practically mumbled against his chest.

Stefan couldn’t quite remember during which part of the story he’d gotten his other arm around Rash too, or how Rash had ended even closer, but it didn’t matter, because Rash was obviously hurting and Stefan felt nauseated and horrified.

Rash was drawing in harsh breaths, obviously in an effort to reign in his feelings.

“You can just let it out,” Stefan whispered. “You don’t have to – Not with me.” 

So Rash did. His whole body wracked with the strength of his sobs. Stefan tightened his hold, realizing that it was probably not helping as much as he would like it, too. Rash needed to get it out of his system. No amount of comforting words would help him get through it any faster, so Stefan just held on, hoping that his presence was at the very least comforting enough that Rash felt safe in letting it all out, all the hurt and the fear, anger and anxiety. He pretended he wasn’t tearing up himself at the heartbreaking sounds and the thought of Rash alone in that basement, desperate and hurting and thinking no one was coming.

Stefan couldn’t tell, exactly, how much time had passed. He’d taken up stroking Rash’s hair at some point, probably more for his own benefit and feeling like he was doing something than anything else. Eventually, the tears subsided and Rash’s breathing evened out. Stefan almost thought he’d actually cried himself to sleep, but then he pulled away, reaching for his nightstand and a handkerchief to blow his nose and wipe away the tear tracks.

“Ugh. There’s snot all over your shirt,” Rash stated, looking at the offending piece of fabric in vague disgust. Stefan wasn’t too fond of all the bodily fluids either, but it seemed like a small price to pay.

“It’ll come out in the wash.”

“Seriously, go change and wash your chest.”

Stefan wasn’t entirely sure if he was meant to take it as a dismissal and a way for Rash to be alone in order to pull himself together or not, but he decided to follow the order anyway, because quite frankly, he did want to change out of the shirt.

He headed into his room to grab a clean one and made a quick stop in the bathroom, before returning to Rash’s room with a wet, cold washcloth.

“It’ll help with the puffiness,” Stefan said.

“Thanks. I must look like such a mess,” Rash said, with a small smile. He folded the washcloth double and placed it across his eyes. 

“Little bit, yeah,” Stefan allowed, crawling back in bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, I think. Probably needed that. Denial, and all that. The therapist will be pleased.”

“The therapist doesn’t really matter here. All that matters is that you’re feeling better.”

Rash let the washcloth fall from his face and looked at him. “I am... Thank you, not just for now, but for all of this, being patient, going above and beyond to help. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I do, you’re my best mate.”

“Best mate, huh?” Rash teased, lightly.

“If you’re going to use that against me, you won’t be my best mate anymore. Leila will be my best mate,” Stefan decided.

“I thought she was your crush.”

Stefan laughed. “Little behind, Rash. I haven’t actually flirted with her in a long time. We’re mates.”

“Good, because that would only have been awkward. There’s not nearly enough space between our two rooms,” Rash made a face of disgust. “She’s too good for you, anyway.”

Stefan spluttered in indignation. “I’ll have you know, I am a catch!”

Rash side-eyed him. “I’ve lived with you for a couple of weeks now, mate. You have your annoying habits.”

“Everyone has their annoying habits, that’s a moot point. Besides, you’ve put up with me for that long, no reason anyone else can’t then. You’re a pretty good benchmark.”

“Because I’m _tolerant_.”

“Really? Because I recall a heap of things on my bed that I left lying around too long for your taste. That’s not tolerant, that’s passive-aggressive,” Stefan pointed out sweetly.

Rash laughed. “Maybe a little. I remember things of mine having gone missing after that though. That’s just petty _and_ childish.”

Stefan grinned in return. “It really was,” Stefan agreed, fondly. It had been totally worth it, too, to have Rash storm into his room and demand to have his stuff returned. “Hey, you’ve put up with me for this long already. Maybe I should swear off girls and settle down with you.”

Stefan expected an eye-roll and a witty comeback, but instead Rash grew silent, contemplative. Stefan felt slightly trapped in his look and wondered what, exactly, had triggered Rash’s scrutiny. He was about to ask what was going through Rash’s head when ahs seemed to have come to a decision.

“Maybe you should. I do fancy you,” Rash said as casually as if he had just described the weather.

Stefan laughed a little, strained, but it died down when Rash gave him a non-impressed look. “You’re not joking.”

“I’m not, no.”

“Okay, I’m a little – I didn’t see this coming. Since when? I mean I – Well, I guess I should first say that I quite fancy you, too, which came as a big shock to me, I assure you, because you’re – well, you. But also amazing, you know? That sounded bad, that was meant to be a compliment, mostly. I just – I’ll stop talking now,” Stefan decided when he realized he was babbling and Rash was looking at him in obvious amusement. He raised his eyes heavenward, he was usually much smoother about this, but that was when he wasn’t caught by surprise or in bed with the object of his affections.  “So, do I ask you one a date now or...?”

Rash’s smile died now. “I – Well, I would prefer it if we didn’t pursue it just yet, considering everything that’s been going on. I think I need to deal with that first, before we get into _this_. But um, well, I don’t know how long that will be, so I’m not asking you to wait or anything. You can do whatever you want.”

Now it was Stefan’s turn to look amused. “What? You think I’d go off and shag random blokes or women? In case it escaped your notice, I haven’t actually brought anyone home. I think I can wait a while longer.”

“Yeah, okay, just saying, if you feel the urge, you can, you know, take care of it.”

“Nothing I can’t do myself,” Stefan said, smirking.

Rash’s cheeks turned faintly red.

“Oh my god, you’re imagining that right now, aren’t you? Rash, I am scandalized!” Stefan exclaimed, but the laugh was evident in his voice, and on his face, probably. Rash turned a deeper shade of red and Stefan laughed out loud.

“I think I’ve just given you a new way to torment me. I clearly hate myself,” Rash mused out loud, also raising his eyes towards the ceiling. It didn’t hold any answers, Stefan had checked.

Stefan laughed, then grew serious. “I mean it, I’ll wait. I won’t even torment you. Much. I may strut around shirtless though.”

“You already do that,” Rash pointed out.

“Huh, I do, don’t I? I’ll think of something.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Rash muttered. “We should probably catch some sleep.” Rash slipped out of bed to turn off the light.

“Yeah,” Stefan agreed, then frowned when he realized how they’d ended up awake in the middle of the night in the first place. He didn’t want to broach the subject again, though, especially not because Rash seemed fairly at ease now.

Stefan couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to sleep soundly now after what Rash had told him. _Everything_ he had told them. The good, and the bad. The urge to pull Rash into his arms was incredibly strong, but he couldn’t decide what the main motive was. To offer Rash comfort. To reassure himself that Rash was here and safe. Simply because he could. He knew though that he needed to respect Rash’s boundaries right now.

Still, Stefan had never been more acutely aware of the physical distance between them.

\--

Days turned into weeks and before they knew, the summer had officially ended and fall had announced itself in a spectacularly rainy, foggy and cold manner. Rash was steadily getting better. The cast had come off his arm and aside from soreness and stiffness, he was getting full movement back in his wrist. The nightmares had become few and far in between. Occasionally, he’d still startle awake, but the nightmares never lingered very long and he hadn’t had another panic attack. Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, Rash figured, therapy and talking about it had helped. The passing of time had definitely helped more. As had Stefan. They still shared a bed, although Rash couldn’t remember the last time Stefan had had to talk him to sleep. Neither of them had seen any point in Stefan sleeping in his own bed so neither of them had suggested it.

With life gradually resuming its normal pace, with Rash having returned to work the prior week as well, he found his thoughts were more and more consumed by Stefan. Since their middle of the night conversation, neither had broached the subject of their feelings, not directly at least. There had been some flirting, and teasing, not dissimilar to the banter they’d had going on before but with more lingering touches and heated glances.

Rash knew Stefan was waiting for him to say something, make a move. Rash wanted to, but there was still something holding him back. If they crossed this line, there was no going back. But then, they had already crossed the line. Stefan wasn’t going to wait forever, Rash couldn’t except him to.

Which left him with the question of how he was going to broach the subject.

“I can’t just ask him on a date,” Rash complained to Leila during their lunch meeting in a pub.

“Why not?” Leila asked.

“Because we already live together! We’ve already gone out to dinner, we’ve gone to the gym, we’ve gone to the cinema. What would we even do on a date? It’d just be a regular night out, with the added expectation that something is going to happen. I don’t want to make it awkward.”

Leila gave him an amused look. “That kind of thinking is what’s going to make it awkward.”  

Rash huffed. “So, what do I do?”

“Do you need to do anything special? You’re practically joined at the hip as it is, you already flirt all the time, c _onstantly_ , Rash, don’t even try to deny it, the only thing missing is the physical aspect, which I’m not thinking about because gross. Just kiss him, get it over with.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“Really? You could always cook for him, a nice romantic dinner with wine. Wait, that’s _every day_ already as it is. You could buy him flowers and serenade him,” Leila suggested.

Rash made a face. “I’m not going to do that... Also, don’t ever suggest that to Stefan, because he would, and no, thank you.”

Leila smirked. “Man up, kiss him, carry on like you usually do, but with more cuddling on the couch.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It can be as simple or as complicated as you make it. Rash, it’s Stefan. He’s not waiting for grand gestures, he’s just waiting for you.”

Rash couldn’t really argue with that, but as simple as the idea sounded, the execution proved not to be as easy, most likely because he was still over-thinking it. Finding the perfect time, or at the very least a good time, to kiss Stefan proved difficult, too. He was seriously considering just blocking his path at some point and planting one on him, when an opportunity arose.

“Are you okay, Rash? You’ve been acting nervous all evening,” Stefan commented, halfway through an episode of Game of Thrones that he was not paying attention to.

“Hmm? Oh,” Rash said, as he realized his knee was jiggling up and down. He halted the movement and turned his head to look at Stefan. Stefan, who was pretty close to him on the couch, their bodies were not touching but it was a close thing.

Rash held his gaze for a few seconds. Then, very deliberately, let his gaze drop to Stefan’s lips, before glancing back up. Stefan’s eyes had widened a little, catching on.

So, as it turned out, it _was_ easy. Stefan met him halfway. It wasn’t the best first kiss, there were no fireworks and the angle was slightly off, but it conveyed what it needed to. Rash was ready. The second kiss was better, Rash shifting on the couch so that his body was angled more towards Stefan, Stefan tilting his head a little. The kisses were more exploratory and gentle than anything else. Rash honestly didn’t need more.

Stefan had a silly smile on his face by the time they came up for air. “That was nice.”

“I hope it was a little more than nice,” Rash commented, slightly out of breath.

“It was... It was _very_ nice.”

Rash snorted. “Fine, I’ll take it.”

When Rash made to move away to sit back against the couch, Stefan pulled him closer. “Nope. I get to hold you now, you’re staying close.”

“Oh my god, you’re a cuddler. Who would have thought?”

“I am. And proud of it, so get used to it.”

“Honestly? I don’t think that will be much of a problem,” Rash admitted, settling himself more comfortably against Stefan’s side with a small, happy smile on his face and a flutter in his stomach. He still had some way to go on the road to recovery, but he was getting there and he’d never felt more alive.

~ The end

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something that dealt with the aftermath for once. Not entirely sure how this turned into something that's 16k, but here we are.


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